sorts of quaint Gloucestershire expressions, which rolled out one after
the other during a day's fishing or shooting. Then he was very fond of
reading amusing pieces at village entertainments, often copying the
broad Gloucestershire dialect; apparently he was not aware that his own
brogue smacked somewhat of Gloucestershire too. At home in his own house
he was most friendly and hospitable. If he could get you to "step in,"
he would offer you gooseberry, ginger, cowslip, and currant wine, sloe
gin, as well as the juice of the elder, the blackberry, the grape, and
countless other home-brewed vintages, which the good dames of
Gloucestershire pride themselves on preparing with such skill. Very
excellent some of these home-made drinks are.

The British farmer is remarkably fond of a lord. If you wanted to put
him into a good temper for a month, the best plan would be to ask a lord
to shoot over his land, and tell him privately to make a great point of
shaking the honest yeoman by the hand, and all that kind of thing. By
the bye, I was once told by a coachman that he was sure the Bicester
hounds were a first-rate pack, for he had seen in the papers that no
less than four lords hunted with them. There is little harm in this
extraordinarily widespread admiration for titles; it is common to all
nations. We can all love a lord, provided that he be a gentleman. The
gentlemen of England, whether titled or untitled, are in thought and
feeling a very high type of the human race. But the man I like best to
meet is he who either by natural insight or by the trained habit of his
mind is able to look upon all mortals with eyes unprejudiced by outward
show and circumstance, judging them by character alone. Such a man may
not be understood or be awarded the credit due to him as "lord of the
lion heart" and despiser of sycophants and cringers. The habit of mind,
nevertheless, is worth cultivating; it will be so very useful some day,
when mortal garments have been put off and the vast inequalities of